Ghosts and Spectres
by stevebond1990
Summary: The lone survivor of a destroyed exploration vessel, a Dilgar joins the Raiders on the eve of the Second Great War, unknowingly changing the course of History.


Ghosts and Spectres

A/N: This is just an idea that popped into my head. It is AU, the Dilgar war hasn't happened, not sure if it will happen, and I'm bringing the Minbari War forward, I haven't decided on the full details yet but you can bet on Mengsk's stupidity making a mess

_Minbar orbit, 2505 Terran Military Calendar_

Ambassador of the Great Centauri Republic Londo Mollari blinked furiously and fought back a flinch as the Terran warships fired their spinal weapons at the moon's surface. The bridge was in solemn silence as the crew and Londo's staff watched in fascinated horror as the Terrans returned the brutality of the Minbari tenfold.

"Watch what is happening, Vir," Londo sighed, not turning to his confused aide, "burn it into your memory, for today is the end of an Age… the end of the galaxy as we know it. Two years ago everyone believed the Minbari invincible, we believed the humans would fall to the superior technology and warriors of the Federation… and they proved us all wrong. What began as three ships has become two entire fleet's worth… the Minbari have learned that human training, discipline and technology bests ancient tradition, they have learned the humans are uniquely fast to adapt to new situations and capable of technological advances unseen by any other race when pressured. When the toll began to mount they turned to brutality in the guise of honourable retribution," he shook his head and gestured to the blazing red of what had been a grassy plain spanning thousands of miles mere seconds before, "and now they reap what they have sown and the galaxy reels as the old order is thrown down."

"But I don't understand," Vir Cotto protested, unable to look away from the carnage unfolding below, "Human rules of engagement forbid indiscriminate bombardment like this!"

Londo shook his head, "no, they forbid indiscriminate attacks against confirmed or possible civilian targets, but this place is the only _purely_ military target left in the entire Federation, it is a message, Vir, a Warning of what is to come."

"I pray it won't be necessary," Vir replied earnestly.

"So do I, Vir," Londo agreed with solemn honesty, "so do I."

Mar Sara, 2504

I nervously poke my head into the bar, I shift uneasily in my old Tigra pattern Velites armour, I couldn't be any more out of place even back in Imperial space, my inquiries had led me to this place, where hopefully I can find a local legend and potential employer.

Luck seems to be with me, as sitting on a stool at the bar is a forty something Terran with a weathered face and black hair, sipping a glass of Gritton's single malt whiskey.

I walk to the bar and settle a couple of seats along from Raynor, he takes note as I lower my pack to the floor, the pulse carbine rattling loudly in the still bar.

"Double ol' eight," I say to the barman, tossing the credits and a tip on the oak bar top.

As the barman collects the money and fetches a glass, Raynor looks me over, "ain't you a little young to be drinkin'?"

"Maybe," I tell him, "but who's gonna stop me? My folks are a hundred and fifty light years away and I doubt anyone 'round here cares to but in on one alien kid when they've got bigger problems."

I face Raynor who takes in my distinctly non-human features carefully, "I just came of age, finally able to get out from under my father's shadow, so I book passage on an explorer heading for uncharted space, only to find the Dominion waiting for me."

Raynor snorts loudly as the barman sets down my drink, "seriously, I thought the Imperium was fascist, one minute after stumbling over the border and a Dominion cruiser is on us, I was lucky enough to be near an escape pod when the cruiser fired, not sure if anyone else made, got picked up by a Umojan merchantmen a day later."

I take a swig then look at Raynor, "I was told that a guy named Raynor was the one to see if I wanted revenge on the Dominion, I may not have known the others well but I'll be damned if those bastards get away with their murder!"

Raynor seems to considering my potential, "and what, hypothetically, could you offer Raynor and his crew?"

"Hypothetically," I replied, "I could offer my services as a rifleman, having served my two years tour of duty in the Imperial Naval Infantry, basic training as a fighter pilot with one hundred hours in combat, training in combat demolitions and some technical knowledge on infantry portable energy weapons."

"You're shitting me?" Raynor asked incredulously, "Infantry scale energy weapons aren't possible!"

I simply haul up my carbine and set it on the bar between us, taking off the cloth I was using to keep the dust off it, "this is a Xiphos Mk IV Pulse Carbine, it fires plasma pulses of sufficient energy to punch through Dominion armour in five shots within six inches of each other and it'll down an unarmoured Terran sized target in one shot, though not necessarily killing them. It was developed in response to a need for tankers, engineers and other second line troops to be able to face off against an enemy far hardier and aggressive than your average Terran, trust me, the only thing worse is a Zerg rush."

Raynor downed his drink, "I think we can find a place for you, after you prove yourself of course."

"You're one of the Raiders?" Raynor grinned at me.

"I lead 'em, James Raynor," he said, holding his hand out.

"Rael'Zhan," I said, shaking his hand, "Formerly of the 4th Naval Infantry, Vanguard Company."

"I've got a mission in mind but I need intel, think you can scope the place out while I prep my men?" Raynor asked me.

I grin ferally, "point it out on the map, sir, I may even leave a few surprises for the fascists."

* * *

"_Zhan, how's it looking?"_

I lower my field glass to reply, "there's about a company of marines and half another for support troops, it's strange, the base looks like it could support ten times that, they've got a dozen walkers and another four large fighters, I rigged charges in the garage to collapse the roof on the walkers but the fighters are either in the air or have clear LOS to the guards, sorry sir."

"_Don't worry, you've done better than I expected, are you still in the base?"_

"Yeah, I'm in the stores building by the south… What the? Sir, the Dominion are rounding up civilians outside the base!"

"_Where?"_

"Maybe a half mile out?" I said, focusing the field glass, "I count four marines, one in an APC, one at the back loading people in and two further back watching their asses."

"_We're a mile out, we'll get to them. Be ready when we arrive!"_

"I'll give the bastards a ticket to Kingdom Bloody Come!"

* * *

A half hour later I saw the blue armour of Raynor's marines on the road to the gate, a black armoured marine at their head and a crowd of civilians following.

"_Rael, light 'em up!"_

I flipped the safety of the detonator and pressed the button.

* * *

Raynor levelled his Impaler at a Dominion officer when what looked like half the base was sent skywards.

"_Talos Damn it! Sir, two of the fighters dodged the charges, they're heading your way!"_

"Good Job, we'll take care of the strays, get down here and join us," Raynor replied, aiming and firing at the distracted Dominion officer.

The Dominion marines fell back towards the Administration building, but three were cut down by bright red energy pulses punching through their visors, two more stumbled and were caught by Impaler fire when they dodged the pulses.

The Raiders nearly fired on the blue and black armoured figure but Raynor waved them down, together the group headed to the Administration building.

"Nice work," I grinned under my helmet.

"Thanks, not my best though, I did miss those fighters," I replied, firing at a Dominion grunt in fatigues.

"Vikings! Take Cover!"

I dived behind a barricade set up by the Dominion marines, three marines and Raynor followed me as the rest found cover.

"Damnit, I was hoping to reach the central building before they found us. Options?" Raynor said, firing a burst.

"Who's got the best arm?" I asked, noticing the air intakes for atmospheric flight.

"That'd be me," a marine with a Florida accent replied.

I passed him three grenades, "these are Fusion grenades, they're designed to take out APCs, I'll draw their fire and you try to lob those into the intakes."

"That's crazy!" one of the other marines protested.

"Got a better plan than death by a thousand cuts?" I said, peering out at the fighters which were drawing almost all of the Raiders' fire yet showing little for it.

"Alright, but whatever happens, don't stop moving until you reach that guardroom," Raynor instructed, pointing to a now empty fortified guard post.

I make a silent prayer and hop over the barricade, Raynor's barking orders but its indistinct, the Vikings initially shift fire to the other two Raider positions but after twenty seconds one pilot spots me.

I can't explain what happened next, I instantly jump as my instincts scream at me, tracer fire scything through where I would have been, I dive, roll and jump as I continue, instinctively knowing exactly where the Dominion pilot is firing.

My death dance ends as I slide into the guard post and duck under a desk, the Viking's fire impacting harmlessly against the wall.

As I catch my breath, I hear a trio of explosions outside, peering out, I see a Viking burning on the ground as the other wobbles unsteadily in the air with a hole bigger than my torso just behind the pilot, as I watch the engines give out and it falls to earth, shaking the nearby buildings.

I stepped out as cheers erupted, glancing left I saw the colonists setting fire to the administration building, "I didn't believe we could fight the Dominion," one of the female colonists sais in awe, "but we can!"

Raynor stepped in front of the crowd as the building started to collapse, "Now you've got the weapons and resources to do it, Mengsk can only control you if you let him."

He started to walk away, the crowd cheering him before turning back to watch the building burn, he walked over to me and raised his visor, "That was some of the craziest acrobatics I've ever seen, where'd you learn to move like that?"

I can't do anything but shrug, "I don't know, I've never done it before. When the pilot fired, I just… knew, I knew where he was shooting and where to go, I wasn't thinking about it, I just went with my instincts," I say uncertainly, "I felt, sorta… detached, in a way."

Raynor nodded in understanding, "an old friend said the same thing about first discovering their Psionic talent, maybe your people are too."

"What's Psionics?" I ask.

"I'm not the best person to ask, you're probably better off going to the library," Raynor admits, "any chance of getting more of those grenades? They'd be handy against siege tanks."

"The rest went down with the Mzincheleft," I say apologetically.

"Pity, anyway, best be heading back, we've all earned a drink after this," Raynor said, leading his men back to town.

* * *

"_This is Donny Vermillion, Live from the UNN studios on Korhal, and we've got a breaking story for you. Let's go live to our very own Kate Lockwell on the fringe world of Mar Sara, Kate?"_

"_Thanks Donny. Rebel Jim Raynor has reappeared in a Big way. He's led an attack on a Dominion depot near Backwater Station and has distributed weapons to the local population."_

"_The locals must be pretty nervous about having a notorious outlaw in their neighbourhood?"_

"_Actually Donny, the people I've spoken to seem reassured…"_

"_You heard it here folks, Jim Raynor, terrorising the locals on Mar Sara."_

* * *

"Talos, I thought Imperial propaganda was bad," Jim smiled at his newest recruit's quip, glancing over he saw the Dilgar was in a poker game with two couriers, a Raiders marine and an SCV pilot and, judging by the large pile of credits, winning.

The temperature rose as warm air blasted in as a marine in old CMC-300 armour stepped in.

The tension rose as the marine strode over and stopped behind Raynor, Raynor slowly reached for his revolver, unseen by him, the poker players mimicked his action.

"You know," the figure started in a southern drawl, "fer the most wanted man in tha sector, you ain't that hard ta find."

Everyone's hands were on their guns, "I had ta see you with ma own eyes."

The visor hissed as the suit depressurised and it rotated out of the man's face, "Little Jimmy Raynor, the people's hero."

The tension faded as Raynor's hand left the revolver and returned to his glass, "Tychus Findlay," he downed the shot, "nice suit."

The marine, Tychus, leaned on the bar, knocking an empty bottle and two glasses off, "pays ta be prepared," he shot back.

"I heard they put you on ice," Raynor commented, Life sentence. What, they give you time off for good behaviour?"

"That's right, old buddy," Tychus confirmed, "I'm a model citizen now."

Raynor scoffed lightly, "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Just a friendly business proposition," Tychus said matter of factly."


End file.
